Home > Books > Fractured Freedom(82)

Fractured Freedom(82)

Author:Shain Rose

It never would.

Depression wasn’t an emotion to stop, my therapist had always said. I couldn’t ace my way through it or navigate around it or avoid it. Sometimes, I had to accept the piece of me I didn’t want, and as I left the hospital that night, the thing I feared most was whether or not Dante could accept that part of me too.

So instead of processing it with him, I tried to go without him.

He had to work too, I figured. Maybe he wouldn’t be home.

Only about ten minutes into me getting a massage from the spa downstairs, I got a text.

Dante: Where are you?

Me: I’ll be back in the room soon.

Dante: Don’t make me ask you again.

Me: I’m getting a massage.

Dante: I give you massages. What the hell are you going to get one for?

Me: I had a gift card from a patient, and the reviews on the website were good.

Also, I was practically addicted to his massages but needed to be self-sufficient sometimes. The man had done practically everything for me in the past week, other than accompanying me to work and putting on the nursing uniform to do my job. I figured I’d give him a break.

Dante: Mine are better. Mine are the only ones you should ever be getting.

Me: Oh, please. This guy has strong hands too. It’s only a twenty-minute one. I’ll be back soon.

Dante: A guy?

Me: Yes.

Dante: Where are you?

Me: I’ll be back soon.

Dante: Where. Are. You?

I rolled my eyes and let the young man finish what he’d been doing. I’d received a gift card from coworkers as a welcome gift at the hospital. I’d paid for a way to relax, where I could digest my thoughts. It was a smart thing to do, I thought.

My mind whispered that I was avoiding what I was terrified of, though.

As the young man turned on the lights in the room, there was a knock at the door. “One minute,” he called out. “We’re just finishing up in here.”

The door swung open, and there stood my overprotective superhero, breathing hard and looking ready to cause havoc. “You’re done now.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “Mr. Armanelli, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Ms. Hardy is not to have any massages here unless they’re approved through me.”

“Of course.” He nodded once and didn’t even glance my way before rushing out.

Dante prowled toward me, his green eyes as bright as I imagined the aurora borealis to be against the dark sky. Both bright and dark, his pupils dilated like he was about to devour me. “Why were another man’s hands on you?”

I grabbed the sheet from my butt and pulled it to myself as I sat up. “Are you kidding me right now? You can’t barge into another person’s massage.”

“Another person? You’re not some other person, Lilah. You’re mine. Even if you’re avoiding the hell out of me right now.”

“I’m not—” My eyes darted everywhere around the room because I couldn't look at him and straight-up lie.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

“What?” I whispered.

“Lie down, Lamb. Now.” There was no room for objections. “Back on the table and lose the sheet.”

“Dante, we can go to your room.”

“We’re staying here. This hotel seems to not understand how close we are, even after I made that clear to Leonardo. He should have spread the news to the spa staff also.”

“They were very accommodating and—”

“Lie down.” His voice was sharp and cut through the calm ambience of the room. I jumped and did as I was told this time.

I stared up at him as he walked toward me. I bit my lip at how good he looked in his work attire. His loafers, slacks, and white-collared shirt tucked into his leather belt appeared so businesslike, I wouldn’t ever have guessed that underneath were stitched-up wounds, tattoos, and a man who delivered all forms of torture to men who deserved it. The only giveaway were those loafers, so clean and shiny with that brown leather, but one drop of red stained them.

One drop.

Was it the man’s from the hospital?

“Where were you tonight?”

He quirked his head at me. “At work.”

I raked my teeth over my lips and asked, “When you go to do the work that had you bleeding out in your shower, do you always feel this way after?”

“What way?”

“You’re not you,” I mumbled as I rearranged the sheet over my body and smoothed it so everything was covered as I stared up at him.

 82/113   Home Previous 80 81 82 83 84 85 Next End